Black Velvet
by Fayet
Summary: Severus Snape had a voice like velvet. It was only that hardly anybody knew that. When Remus decides to seek him out, new sides are discovered and old predjudices reverted. OoC, SS/RL friendship. I ignore everything after PoA. Don't like, don't read.
1. Black Velvet

Disclaimer: I own nothing, I just play with them.

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"Severus?"

Someone knocked on my door. It was clearly a knock. No first-year student who wants to loose a few hundered points knocks that way. No student with a stupid question would dare to knock that way. Especially not at this hour of the day. Who's that in front of my door, then? Albus? He knocks in a soft, gentle way. This knock was loud, so that I wouldn't overhear it. After ignoring it for a while, I finally gave in and got up to open the door.

A glance at my old clock told me that I'd worked for hours. It's not a good productive work, correcting essays, but what shall I do? Even I don't enjoy giving marks that should be below zero and signing my name underneath. My legs feel stiff and my body aches. I don't care who is standing in front of my door and I don't want to know. It's a teacher, that's for sure - who else should use my first name? Uttering a curseword underneath my breath I open the door.

-

"Lupin?"

He doesn't sound very enthusiastic. Not that I expected him to open the door wide and welcome me inside for tea and cookies... well, maybe, if someone put something into his tea, he would - but no. Noone would survive putting something into Severus' tea. Maybe Dumbledore, whose fault it is that I'm standing here.

It was his tired gaze, in which so much pain and sadness was hidden when Severus appeared at breakfast for a mere five minutes before he left again, without touching any food at all. He didn't appear at lunch at all, and during dinner the breakfast situation was repeated. And everytime he is not eating, Dumbledores bright blue eyes get a little sadder, a litte bit darker, more tired. It's been a week now and I can't watch Albus being sad for longer. He always feels with others, senses sadness and pain, and the pain Severus is dealing with troubles the Headmaster deeply. And Severus is suffering some pain, I'm sure of that. He's vanishing, slowly, getting thinner and thinner. Even under his wide, high-collared robes it's getting obvious. Is it some kind of self-tortoure? Only that he isn't harming only himself with it - he's also inflicting pain on everyone that cares for him, mostly on Albus. And on everyone else around him: His concentration is slowly giving away, his temper is even worse than usually - although there are spirits out there who claim that this isn't possible. He'll kill himself if he doesn't change his way.

And why am I here? I want him to realize what he is doing, to wake up. We were never friends, acquaintances at the most, during school days. I didn't hate his guts like Sirius, but I wasn't too keen of him either. But since I'm back as a teacher and realized what he is doing for our side in this war, I try to get along with him. It got easier in the last weeks, although I fear that this has to be blamed on his lack of strengh. He is simply too tired to fight back anymore... At least that will make it more easy to get through to him.

--

"May I enter?"

Lupin, at this time of the day, in front of my door? Did I already think about suicide today? No? Well, it's time for that now. Not that I don't love having visitors, no, my sociable nature loves company. Ah, irony... That was today: I'm tired, have a nasty headache and Lupin in front of my door. And he looks determined, as if he had something to say and not as if he'd simply go away if I told him so. With a sigh I take a step back and allow him to enter my private quaters. He smiles, slips past me and strolls into my living room. There he takes a seat in one of the armchairs in front of the fire place and places a bottle on the coffee table I hadn't noticed before. Red wine.

--

He seems to admit that he can't get rid of me tonight. He even looks slightly amused as I present my gift - a bottle of his favourite red wine. With raised eyebrows he looks at me, shrugs and from somewhere takes two cristal wine glasses, which he puts down on the coffee table next to bottle and settles down into the second armchair.

"How do I deserve the honor of your visit?"

I smile. Although his voice is cold and filled with irony, I like to listen to it. It's a shame that someone with such a voice is only using it to irritate and degrade others. He knows how to control his voice, knew it from the very beginning of his teenage years and learned to make use of it to his advantage. Dumbledore once told me that Voldemort was aware of this as well and used Severus as his interrogator. Imagine being captured and being handed to someone with a mind and a voice like Severus... I'm very lucky that I never had to face that, as I don't think I would have kept many secrets.

--

"We need to talk."

My voice dripping with irony I answer.

"I'm here. Talk."

Out of habit my voice is cold as ice. I like to play with my voice, carefully watching my opposite to find out what impact it has. I have a different timbre for every situation, and I learned early to listen carefully. I can make students tremble with horror by pronouncing their name. Voices are dangerous. They betray much of what their owner is really thinking without his knowledge. I always find the true emotions of other in their voices. Even in the voices of my students - fear, pain, defiance, determination. You can hear everything if you listen. If someone is telling the truth or not. I learned to listen, yes, in the years I worked as n interrogator for the Dark Lord. Not many people really know how to listen. But because I know so much about voices I learned how to gain perfect control over my own, learned to bite and stroke with it, to caress and kill. But my voice never shows my true emotions. Only Albus knows the how I sound when I talk freely, without fear, when I'm honest and open. For then it's warm and soft, and Albus says it sounds like black velvet.

--

I take a deep breath.

"Well.. about you."

For a second he closes his eyes, open them again, watches me. The bright shine of the fire is reflected in his black orbs, in which I can see no emotion.

"Why?"

I sigh. This is going to be hard. But I never expected it to be easy, right? Or? Maybe I wished for it.

"I'm worried about you."

He raises an eyebrow, his usualy facial expression. It's the arrogant look that Sirius hates so much, that I've seen on his face countless times, since we know each other - and that's quite a while now. He's either mocking me or I managed to confuse him.

"Now that's a piece of exciting news. You distrub me at this hour of the day to tell me that you're worried about me? Great. I know it know. Leave."

He's not really sure about the things he's saying, I can hear it in his voice. It's just the timbre that's slightly off, nothing a human being could detected - but I am not human. The wolf in me feels his insecurity. Who would think that sometimes being a monster could proof beneficial.

--

"You don't appear in the Great Hall anymore. During out meetings in the teachers lounge you sit by the fire and sulk. It's not that you're usually amicable. But you're never silent. Harry told me you stopped taking points from Griffindor for nothing, and that your aren't as witty as you used to be. What happend?"

Great. Now he's giving me a lecture. I admit that I became a bit tame. Long verbal fights tire me too much. I never realized that I stopped taking points from Griffindor. I will change that soon.

"Thanks for informing me. I will make sure that Griffindor will get rid of their excess house points. Minerva will be one happy being. You can leave now."

I can't belive it. He's laughing. He's sitting in my armchair, in front of my fireplace, and is roaring with laughter. My headache explodes underneath this sound, it feels like my brain trys to flee from my skull through my left ear. Pulling a face I start to look through the pockets of my robes for something against the pain.

--

I'm laughing. Severus last comment was dripping with sarcasm, and I couldn't stop thinking about Minervas face. Severus simply pulls a face and takes a small bottle out of the pocket of his robes, filled with black fluid. With a tired gesture he pushes a strand of raven hair back behing his left ear and rubs it.

"What is that?"

I'm curious. Maybe something against the headache he always claims to have? Lines appear on his forehead.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I guess I will survive taking it."

He lifts the bottle to his lips and drinks the liquid in one swift swallow. Than he sets it down on the table, closes his eyes and rubs his forehead with his hand. I guess I was right - headache. When he opens his eyes again he notices my gaze and quickly lets his hand fall back into his lap. Damn your pride, Severus!

--

It's good that the potions works quickly and effectivly. It's my own invention, and I really need it. Often.

"Why are you saying these things? Disappointing me with surviving? Noone would celebrate should you die. Everyone is worried, Minerva, me. Albus suffers."

I look up. Lupin looks agitated. So he's here to save me, to play hero. Who would have thought... when will they realize that I don't need to be saved? Here is no room for a hero. It's not the right story.

"Stop it, Lupin."

I rise from my chair to make it clear that he's no longer welcome. He is not of that opinion, but rises nevertheless and takes a few steps into my direction. Which is my luck. He would not have caught me otherwise.

--

He jumps up from his chair, making it clear that I should go. But he is not getting out of this that easily, not this time! I rise from my chair as well, take a step forward, when his eyes suddenly loose their focus and his face turn even whiter than it was before. And then he simply collapses.

It's his luck that he practically collapsed into my arms. Surprised I reach out and catch him, and he's so very light that it's almost painful.

"Damn it, Severus!"

I caught him at a strange angle, and because I need to change my grip I slowly lower myself and him onto the thick, soft carpet. I guess he'll wake up soon, right? He didn't eat for days, no wonder that he fainted. My stomach turns a bit at the thought what I should do if... if he doesn't wake up. But now I need to get him somewhere else. Carefully I arrange him in my arms and carry him over into his bedroom, where I place him on his bed. I put a pillow underneath his head, wrap a blanket around his body and put his legs on another big pillow. Than I settle down on the edge of the bed and try to think. Shouldn't I call upon Albus and Poppy? Severus would kill me.

In the end I decide to get a cold washcloth first. I remember my father doing that with my fainted sister - maybe it will help with Severus, too. When I return from the bathroom he hasn't moved an inch. Carefully I wipe his forehead. Rolling up his sleeves I put some cold water on his wrists, noticing the scars that cover both of his wrists. Some are smaller, some are bigger. There are new ones and old ones, but no fresh ones. It's a story of pain and fear, digged into his skin, and it hurts seeing it. On his left wrist there is the black mark, burned into the porcelain skin. All the hairs on my arms stand up as my fingers softly touch it, and cold shivers run down my spine. It's a mark, like a dog tag. In my mind I see the faces and hear to voices of the many friends I had that Voldemort killed, and images start to spin inside my head. But I try to keep a clear head. I need to take care of Severus now. The dead are dead anyway...

Than I decide to call on Albus.

--

The first thing I realize when I regain my conciousness is that I'm cold. It seems that I'm lying on my bed. I feel the presence of Lupin next to me, and when I carefully stretch my body he immediately moves.

"Severus?"

I take a deep breath. Than I try opening my eyes. I'm lucky that it's fairly dark in my bedroom. Only the light of two small candles throws shadows on the wall. In shock I realize that my sleeves are rolled up. I want to push myself up, but can't find the strengh to go through with the movement. Then Lupins face appears inside my field of vision. He looks worried. That's not necessary. Nobody should worry about me.

--

Thank Merlin he's awake. I had started to really worry about him... Carefully he opens his eyes, as if he's afraid of the light. When he tries to push himself up he fails. There's simply not enough strenght left in him. Only then I realize the dark marks under his eyes, the bones under his skin. He looks older that he is, and so fragile.

"Why?"

With a gentle movement I touch the skin on his wrists. He flinches, but doesn't find the strengh to pull his hand away. His skin is so cold. Than he opens his eyes again, his gaze fixed to the ceiling.

"Too much pain potion in one day, insomnia, too much cruciatus, too much work..."

His voice is weak, but neutral, as he lists all the reasons why he collapsed. The cruciatus - if I met Voldemort now, I'd probably strangle him with my bare hands.

"No.. I meant that."

Once again I touch the scars on his wrists. My touch makes him flinch again, but this time he shakes his head.

"I'm so tired..."

So soft he says those words that I can hardly hear them. Then he drifts off. I decide to stay for the night. With some floo I inform Dumbledore of my decision. When I come back into the bedroom Severus hasn't moved again and in the dim light of the two candles I settle in for a long night.

--

When I open my eyes again it's still night. I don't know how long I slept, but I feel better now. I still feel a bit weak, too weak to walk, but at least my head is clear again. As I try to turn around I realize two things. First, I'm still fully dressed, only my shoes are missing. Second, I'm not alone in my bed. It's not that I've never woken up next to a strange, but usually I had quite fond memories of how that person came into my bed. This time there'nothing. When I carefully check who my unknown companion is I realize that waking up next to that said person never belonged into the category of "my deepest desires". Next to my Remus Lupins is sleeping soundly. Great. At least it's not Black, that would have caused me a heart attack. Waking up next to the best friend of your favourite enemy isn't a very enlighting experience. Then the memories of the previous evening return and with them the weakness and dizzyness. Carefully I let myself sink back into the pillows, and feel the cold creeping back into my bones, together with the well known pain of too much cruciatus. My nerves start to tingle.

"How are you feeling?"

I try to speak, but I can't. The pain is taking over, and soon I'm sinking into unconciousness again.

--

He's shaking violanetly. His whole body. Albus once told me that the cruciatus curse can cause attacks like that if it's forced upon a body too often. I never knew voldemort was doing that to him. But I guess only Albus knew. I feel helpless.

"Shh.. come here.."

What do you do with someone suffering from the aftermath of a curse? His hands are holding the blanket in a tight grip. Is he still concious?

In the end I decide to do the only thing I can: Hold him tight. Body contact can help to calm people down, simply holding someone is often a good medicine. So I pull him into my arms. His body is cold to the touch. After a while the shivering stops and his breathing comes to a normal rythm. And after an even longer amount of time he's asleep again, still in my arms, holding the hem of my robes tight. Maybe I was right and all he needed was to be held, once? Musing over that fact I fall asleep as well.

I only wake up again when the sun was already high in the sky. Severus is still asleep, but has softend his grip on my robe, and so I place him back into the pillows, tuck his blankets around him and leave. I feel really shaken up, and am in real need of a shower and fresh robes. After a quick visit to the bathroom I go back to the bedroom to check one last time on him, and find him wide awake.

--

By Merlin's bones - I did not sleep curled up to Lupin, did I? I only remember the upcoming pain of the cruciatus, and then emptyness and pain. I think I didn't scream, which would be good.

Lupin looks shaken up and in need of a shave and shower. I don't want to know what I look like - probably not much better than the Dark Lord himself, or Death. I can only hope Lupin won't ask too many questions.

"Good morning. How are you feeling?"

He smiles. I strech my neck, rub my temple and try to control my voice.

"Better."

At least my voice isn't trembling anymore. But it still sounds weak. Lupin looks at me with a worried expression.

"Dumbledore is informed, you will not teach today. I'll go catch some sleep now, you should do that too."

Then he turns around, collects his belongings and leaves. I'm surprised.

--

He looks so much better. Tired, yes, tired to the bones, but better. I'm tired too, looking forward to my bed. It's good that Dumbledore told me he'd cover for Severus and make Minerva cover for me. He really couldn't teach today.

I know he needs time now. I mean, it's still Severus, after all. He'll be emberassed that he clung to me, but I think he needed that. Human touch. Being hold. Only that, nothing more.

I pick up my belongings from the living room, and open the door to leave for my own quarters. I just hope I won't meet Harry or Ron. Explaining why exactly I look like I slept in the Forbidden Forest, or worse, the Dungeons, could be interesting. Behind me I hear small steps in the bedroom, and Severus appears in the doorframe. He's tucking a sweat drenched strand of hair behind his ear, his robes crumpled, sleeves still rolled up. His skin is almost translucent, and he looks twice his age. But there's a tiny hint of a smile on his lips. Looking at me calmly his eyes aren't that empty anymore.

"Thank you, Remus."

His voice is pure velvet. Black velvet.

--

(c) Fayet, written 17.8.2002, translated 11.8.2009

I just realized that it's been almost seven years since I wrote that. It's only the first chapter in a series of three, and it found quite a few fans in the german speaking parts of . I didn't like it for a long time and made some minor changes while translating it. The process of working on it made me like it again, and gave me an understanding why so many fans enjoyed reading it so far. I do not have a beta, so I apologize for any grammar and spelling mistakes.

I'm always open to advice and opinions, and of course I appreciate your reviews. I could translate the other two chapters as well, depending on the popularity of this first part. Let me know what you think.


	2. White Frost

Chapter II - White Frost

"You're still here?"

Oh, dear Merlin, no. Not him. Not now. Why? Why can't something good happen to me, like, once in my life? I admit, it was nice of him to take care of me when I myself couldn't do it. But do I need to thank him now for that for ever and ever? And answer to all of his questions? Isn't it enough that I answer to two masters already?

It's friday evening. And it's not a good time to talk to me. My small "breakdown" was three days ago. I tried to avoid being alone with Lupin since then, but I'm not very successful. I slept since then, but I went back to teaching the day after it happend. I don't want to give my students reasons for festivities. And my little lapse with the Gryffindor points was repaired immediately. I really didn't notice that.

Now I'm sitting in the teachers lounge, in front of the fire, with a cup of strong black tea in my hands. I know it's stupid to hope for solitude in a public space like this, but it's friday and usually noone enters the teachers lounge on fridays. What should one do in a teachers lounge on fridays? Not everybody is searching for peace and quietness. Lupin however seems to have something against the idea that I find it.

---

"Who do you think should be here? Potter, maybe?"

I nearly didn't notice him. I was looking for a book I had forgotten on my place in the teachers lounge and went to get it. After finding it I had planed to check on him, something I don't need to do now, of course. Hadn't he moved a bit, I would have left without noticing him. Now I'm happy that I met him here in silence. He looks a lot better than he did at the beginning of this week, although I don't think he should be up and teaching again. Harry told me that he took as many points from Gryffindor as he could in the past days. I guess that's my fault...

He's sitting in front of the fire, his long fingers wrapped around a dark green mug. Without asking, for I know he would decline, I take the armchair next to him. I know he hates me for being persistent. But there are people out there who need to be forced to find their luck - and Severus is one of them, I'm sure.

At least he doesn't jump up from his place and leaves in a whirl of black robes as he usually does. It's a step forward, a baby step, but nevertheless a step. Carefully I examine his face for signs that might show how he's feeling while his eyes are fixed on the fire. He looks better. The dark circles underneath his eyes haven't disappeared, but aren't as dark anymore, his eyes are clear and he even has some color on his cheeks.

"If Harry came in here Dumbledore would need to think about the wards. Really, why are you here? I thought you'd be down in your private quarters."

---

I hate him for being this open and direct, and down to the truth. He's ruining my defences with that. I used to be the greatest admirer of truth - this bold light of freedom and knowledge. Never tell lies! Always explain what you really think! If I hadn't dropped that behavoir soon, I'd be dead long ago. Isn't it strange that the fact that I'm alive is based on a fine web of lies and more lies, woven into each other so that sometimes even I can't tell what's the truth and what's lies? And now? He's honest. How many people are still honest with me? Albus, yes, he couldn't control me with such ease would it be different. Minerva. The dog Black, damn it. And now Lupin. And he's here for answers. Therefore I should tell him the truth, although it often sounds like a weak excuse.

"You can go into my quarters if you like to, but I won't reanimate you."

Now here goes the truth.

---

Reanimate? What is he talking about? It seems like my face shows my confusion, because Severus is smiling and immediately places a hand before is mouth to cover it. It's something he always does, as if smiling would make him weak. It doesn't. In fact, it suits his face quite well.

"A cauldron... exploded."

Explaining what he did he gestures with his free hand in a very graceful way. I can't stop grinning.

"You blow up cauldrons? I always thought that was a speciality of poor Longbottom, not of you."

The expression on his face is worth a thousand tons of gold. He tries not to smile or grin, while at the same time is horrified that I compared him - master of potions that he is! - with someone as incapable as poor Neville Longbottom. But as soon as that expression came on his face it's gone again and makes way for the mask he wears daily. It's such a shame - talking to Severus could be so delightful. He's so quick and witty, and his sharp tounge is legendary. Maybe someday he'll trust me enough to really have a free conversation with me. But that will not be today.

"And everybody says I'm cruel. I was unobserving for a second, that's all."

Unobserving? If his concentration is half as bad as it seems he shouldn't go even near a cauldron. He's nervous, his long fingers tap a rythem on the mug. Did he take something to stay awake? Something besides tea or coffee?

---

Lupin is worried again, I feel it. Albus worries, Minerva worries, Lupin worries... isn't anybody here who doesn't worry? I should have tea with Black, it would be a refreshing difference. I'm nervous, and I know he knows it. Damn his wolf senses, he feels everything that's going on within the humans around him. As if he could smell it. Somehow that's a thought I don't not want to think further. No. No.

At least my hands stopped shaking. Or not? I simply cling to my mug, caressing the head of the silver serpent with the point of my thumb, looking into the fire, into the mug again. Why can't he just stand up and leave? I don't find the strenght to muster up a fight. Not tonight. I'm still to tired. Still am tired, am tired again - there's no difference anymore. I'm always tired. At least the Dark Lord didn't call since a week. What a grace period.

---

So he blew up a cauldron? He? Severus Snape, youngest potionsmaster in Europe, if not on the whole planet, and one of the best? I mean, sure, things happen. And if I think of poor Longbottom, things can happen quite often. I remember Albus telling me that usually a potionsmaster would ruin about ten cauldrons a year, and that Severus only killed no more than two. He was so proud of him.

But I know that the cauldron is only one more sign that shows me that he belongs anywhere, but not behind a working counter. Into bed, yes. Into the infimary, yes. But he would never go to Poppy out of free will. Well, he does, when he returns from a night when Voldemort calls. But it's not like he has a choice then, when Hagrid comes in carrying him because he didn't have the strengh for walking and just collapsed somewhere in the forbidden forest. It's painful to imagine him lying somewhere in the forest, in the cold, alone, wounded. And it happens so often.

I look at him. His gaze is once again fixed upon the fire. But his left sleeve has rolled itself up a bit while he was gesturing earlier, and now a bit of the skin underneath his wrist is exposed, showing a bit of the dark mark and the scars I saw three days ago. I remember seeing them and the feeling that sight left in my stomach, and I also remember that I wanted to ask him. I need to have an answer. Where do those scars come from?

---

"Give me your hand."

Excuse me? Did I just hear what I think I heared? Only now I realize that my sleeve is exposing parts of my wrists - parts of my body that I never expose. Too much of my pain is etched into my skin there. Seeing it is a strange feeling. It reminds me of the flowing blood and how it felt when the blade touched the skin. It makes my head dizzy and my stomach cold. I'm afraid of that feeling. And of the call I hear.

"Holding hands? Thanks, Lupin, I'm not Black."

Will that do? I hope so.

---

He's afraid. What is he afraid of? I won't bite, eat or rape him. But I can feel his panic, see it in the way his shoulders tense up. I know that he hates me for knowing. And I know that I'm on the right way to uncover his secret.

I think he needs help. He suffers too much, from the hands of Voldemort, from his own pride. From the masquerade he's playing. Since three days I know that I don't know him at all. That I know only what he shows me, shows the world. Maybe Dumbledore knows the truth, he knows almost everything. Severus is good at acting. Of course, I guess he would be dead if he wasn't such a good actor. He took on a role that protected him, that made everyone go away. Noone dares to look further, behind the cruel and hateful mask. I think I've seen a glimpse of the real Severus three days ago, in that night when he didn't have the strengh to hold the mask up anymore. But what if he looses himself behind this mask and this acting one day? What a mind, what a soul would be lost! I need to look behind his mask once again. Sirius would say that I need to destroy it - but that wouldn't work. Severus knows how to fight. Two sides trained him to fight. Voldemort trained him to kill. If you want something from Severus, you need to go the soft, clever way. Kill him with kindness.

---

"Come on, give me your hand."

No. I can't. I won't. Don't do this to me.

"Why?"

I don't know what to say anymore. I feel like a deer in the headlights. And it's not a good feeling. Not at all.

"Please. Give me your hand."

Great. I don't know what to say anymore.

---

I did it. He's speechless. He just stares into his mugs, his head hanging down. I can sense the fear, the panic in him. I'm taking advantage of his weakness, I know that. If he was doing good he would have torn me into shreds already. This is my only chance. Please, trust me.

How long are we sitting like this, my hand outstreched towards his, silent?

Then, finally, he closes his eyes and gives me his hand. Gently I take it, feeling the ice cold skin and how he's shaking. I can see his pulse vibrating, feel it under his skin. His heart is going fast, his face as if he's in pain. Carefully I push his sleeve up a little bit higher. The different layers of clothing give way slowly - he is wearing so much, maybe to cover his thin frame?

Then I see the scars again. A cold shiver goes down my spine. How much pain does cause scars like this?

The are criss-crossed above the dark mark, around it. One is placed right on his palm. His beautiful hands, so important for his art, marked like this. Softly my fingertips travel around on his writs, feel the skin and the scars, and I allow my eyes to close for a moment.

When I open them again I realize that I succeeded. The mask on his face is gone. It's replaced by an expression of purest pain and fear, of terror and long, cold and lonely nights between death and life. And what I sense from him is so much that I nearly start to cry myself.

---

"Oh, Severus... why?"

Lupins voice is soft. If there were other sounds in the room besides our breathing and the noises of the fire, I might have overheard it. I would have tried to. But like this the questions is loud inside the silence and hangs in the air, making me flinch. I want to draw my hand back, but Lupin holds it tight in his own two hands. Why did I do that? He wants answers, anwser that I can't give him. Anwsers that I do not have.

I just manage to shake my head. He looks at me, studies my face. Why does he need to look at me? I didn't find the strengh to keep my mask where it should be, to control my emotion. When I felt his soft touch on my hand and on the scars, and the mark, it was over. Too much is buried in this scars, inside me. If he hadn't asked to see my hand I could have fled. But like this? What should I say?

"Can you tell me why?"

Why can't he ask easier questions? How, for example. That would be easy. When, for example. That would be an easy question as well. Why? That is the only question I can't answer. The most difficult of all questions. Staring at the fire I try to explain. For the first time ever I try to find words for what I did. And do. I can't take it back. And I know I will regret it. Like everything I do in my meek life.

---

His voice sounds like white frost upon stones, fragile, thin. He's so afraid, his whole body shaking, the pain written across his face. His gaze is fixed upon the fire as he speaks.

"Why? Why do you want to know that? Why? Isn't there enough for me to think about, to be tortured about, again and again? Nobody can understand that, why. I can't understand that. Listen, I'll explain it. But I won't do it twice. Of course you won't understand how the basic feeling is, the feeling of, well, of not feeling. Not feeling oneself. When you don't know wether you're there or not, but you assume you're there, because there's pain and fear. But I understand that feeling, and I know it so well. It's my fate. I gambled with my life, when I went to the Dark Lord for the first time - I was young, and so stupid - and I lost in the game. First I thought I won, and that was the real error. Then I realized I lost. And the life I had gambled with got lost behind the years. I don't feel it anymore. I don't feel anymore if I'm awake or not, if it's cold or warm, if I'm being held or tortured. And they know perfectly well how to torture in an accurate way, let me reassure you. But when you stop screaming under the cruciatus, are you still alive? Some people commit suicide, and dying they realized they were still alive and die as happy men. I took a path where I would survive, but still realize I'm alive. Death is a gift I do not deserve. Maybe in the final battle, someone will feel pitty and kill me. Joyful pitty! But until then, what makes me feel my life? Blood means there's a heartbeat, heartbeat means there's a life. I'm still human, I guess. But my life is somehow gone, and that's fair. If you gamble, and you loose, it's over. I gambled. I lost. It was over."

When he stops talking his eyes are like black tunnles into nothingness. For the first time ever I realize why people are afraid of him and what he's capable of doing.

Suddenly I hear a noise behind us. Severus stands up apruptly and whirls around, his hand gliding out of my soft grip. I turn around to see who's there and how much he or she might have heard. In shock I close my eyes for a second.

There, just a few steps into the teachers lounge, is Albus Dumbledore. And from the hurt look on his face he heard everything.

---

No, please. No. Everybody, but why Albus? Minerva, the damned dog Black, but not Albus. I never told him. He was worried anyway, why should he know that? Nobody needed to know. But then Lupin came and asked. And I, stupid as ever, told him. Will I ever start to learn from my mistakes? I need time to think. To breathe again. I need to get out of here.

---

Albus is shocked, staring at Severus with a deeply hurt expression on his face. Than he looks at me. Severus looks like he's on the edge. Shaking he stands there, not able to hold Albus' gaze for long. He closes his eyes. When he opens them again, and Albus trys to link his gaze into his, he just looks away.

"I'm so sorry, Albus."

His voice is but a whisper. Than he just leaves, brushing past Albus, who lets him go.

I rise myself, taking a few steps into Albus direction. He looks shocked, but tries to smile at me.

"I didn't know it."

He is whispering too, as if loud words would scare away the things Severus just said in this room. Confessed. As if that confession would claim silence.

He didn't know it? Merlin. I thought Albus knew everything about Severus. His smile is now not more than a mask.

"You did so well, Remus. Thank you."

Than he just turns around an leaves as well. I stay behind, thinking, then cleaning up a bit, washing Severus' green mug in the sink. Than I take my book and leave the teachers lounge. It's night in Hogwarts now, and I wander through the endless silent and dark hallways of the castle. Finally I step through the large door outside and take a deep breath. Staring at the night sky I realize that the moon is gone. The stars are even brighter without his powerful light. How much of that what happened today is my fault? How will it affect the future?

It's cold outside. Tomorrow the stones of the castle will be encrusted with white frost.

---

(c) Fayet, Written 30.8.2002, translated 18.8.2009

This is the second part of "Black Velvet". I still have a third one, "Dark Glass", which I'll translate later this week if you want to read it.

Thanks to my two reviewers, aladirdie and . Hope you liked the second chapter as well. I appreciate your compliments.

By the way, I stole the dark green mug with the silver serpent on it from Aello, more precisely from her story "Can't beat the feeling". It can be found on - or could be found, at least when I checked last time - and is really funny. I can only recommend it.


	3. Dark Glass

Chapter III - Dark Glass

"Severus?"

Somehow my life seems to repeat itself. A major new fact seems to be that I can never find solitude, no matter where I seek it. Even if I go into the most hidden corners of Hogwarts. Walking all the stairs up onto the top of the astromnomy tower was painful enough - and now the peace I'm looking for is disturbed once more.

It could be so beautiful. The last golden light of the autumn sun is highlighting the colors of the forbidden forest in the most delightful way. I know it's only a camouflage. The trees are vibrating with brown, golden and red colors, dark green fir trees mixed as darker spots within this ocean of light. The students are gone to Hogsmeade village, it's a saturday afternoon, late afternoon. Today they will stay out late, enjoy butterbear and the sweets, until they return around eight o'clock in the evening. Until then silence has the castle tight in her merciful hands and only the screams of the wilde geese flying over the forest disturb her reign. Well, and Lupins steps. It could have been so beautiful...

---

What a calm autumn day it was. Harry, Ron and Hermione were gone to Hogsmeade village, and contrary to my usual habits I didn't go with them. I had so much to do in the library, and there's no better time to work in the Hogwarts library than on a Hogsmeade weekend. It's not that I don't like the lively noise the students make, no, but sometimes one needs the quietness to work and think. Now I was prepared for the next month, and Hermiones questions would not throw me out of my tracks. I've always been deeply impressed by her interest in everything. I even marked all of the test my sixth years wrote last week, and they sat in a neat pile on my desk awaiting the next week. I was satisfied and walked all the way up to the tower to get some fresh air and admire the view over the lake and forest.

The huge platform on top of the tower has always been decorated with huge stone figures symbolizing the different wizarding sciences. Reclining against a huge man, adorned with a long coat and a strange mark on his forehead was someone clad in long, black robes, his gaze fixed to the forest and the horizon behind it. I finally found Severus Snape.

It was a good coincidence that we should meet here. Since our talk in the teachers lounge he had been avoiding me. He stopped showing up in the Great Hall completely, never talked in the conferences we teachers had, and even stopped talking to Albus. As if the easiest way to escape was not talking to anyone, to forget anything and finally to completely vanish. I was suprised by this tactic, as I had always thought Severus to be a man of attack.

For a moment I stay in the doorway, thinking about all this. Then I move carefully and approach him from behind. He doesn't turn around, although I'm sure he had indeed noticed my presence. His back is painfully straight, but I can see his clenched shoulders. I'm not going to hurt him - but does he realize that?

---

What is he thinking? He doesn't belive that I didn't realize his presence, does he? Of course I knew it was him, first by his smell, than I nearly felt is presence. He is standing too close behind me, nearly touching me. I can feel the warmth of his body on my back, even through my heavy robes. He's too close for my taste, invading my personal space. But I can't move. Directly in front of me is only the nothingness of the abyss, and although it calls to me I won't jump. Not now.

---

For a moment I'm afraid that I distrubed him in the process of commiting suicide by jumping from the tower. I mean, it would be possible. The scars told me a story of self-inflicted pain, and suicide would only be the next logical step. I talked to Albus and he told me that indeed had one of the scars been a reminder of a moment when Severus had tried to commit suicide - but that it had been when he was so much younger. Such an old pain, so deeply ingraved into his soul...

He can't move. I'm standing directly behind him, and I know that he feels uncomfortable. I take a small step back. He never allowed me to enter into his personal space, but I won't leave now.

"Hush, don't be scared."

---

Don't be sacred? What if I would jump out of my skin, and off the tower? Would he feel like a murderer? That could be an intresting train of thoughts...

---

Slowly I raise my hands and place them on his shoulders. I had warned him, but he flinches nevertheless. Damn him, doesn't he know I will not hurt him? Skittish like a squirrel, always on the run, always hiding. It's strange. Two weeks ago I had never touched him before. If you meet him in the hallways you nearly don't feel his presence. Although he's always wearing full academic robes, and always manages to show off this impressive amount of silk and velvet, which turns into a whirl of black when he moves, you never get in contact with it. Sometimes it's like meeting a ghost.

Under my hands I can feel his clenched shoulders, hard contracted muscels. This has to hurt. But didn't he say for himself that he doesn't feel his body anymore?

---

Who told Lupin we'd be having a touchy-feely relationship from now on? Am I wearing pink fur and sport big blue innocent eyes? No? Than maybe he's drunk. I know my whole body is clenched, it hurts enough for that message to get through to my brain. Why can't he leave this place, and leave me in peace?

Don't touch me. It's an easy rule, established when I was still a child. Touch means harm. Touch means my fathers whip, Lucius hands claiming me, Voldemorts ice cold fingers on my cheek. A touch means someone claiming me for himself. To go and do whatever he wants. I'm so sick of doing what other's want.

---

Carefully I try to warm my palms up a bit. It's an easy and convinient spell, and it has helped me quite often now. Human touch is so valuable, helpful. It helps building trust and relationships.

Against Severus will his muscles start to relax a bit. You can't stay tensed up forever, right? It takes what feels like hours, but under my steady caressing movements his shoulders start to relax.

---

I just hate this. It's not like you can do anything against being carefully massaged, someone sending warmth through my cold body, breaking through the wall again and again. Albus sometimes does this, Lupin is becoming persistent in doing it. Am I so easy to see through? Are my outer shells becoming thin?

"Come on."

---

Finally I take my hands off his shoulders, take his sleeve and pull him over towards one of the stone benches up here. Without complaining he follows me, silent. He hasn't spoken a word yet. We sit down on the benches still warm from the sunlight, each taking a different side. He takes a spot as far away from me as possible, leaning his head back against the stone wall, clasping his hands together.

---

I must look like the perfect incarnation of misery, according to Lupins' facial expression.

"I talked to Albus."

Oh, great. Don't try to play with my conscience, Lupin.

"No need to waste your breath, Lupin. Nothing is gnawing on my conscience right now."

He raises an eyebrow. Intresting to see my own trademark expression on someone else.

"That wasn't exactly my intention. Why not?"

I shrug.

"According to the newest rumours I buried my conscience in a small box in the forbidden forest. Therefore I don't have a conscience at all. Easy."

He's grinning at me. Damn him.

"I don't belive that. Noone can bury his conscience in a forest, as nice as that would be sometimes."

I shrug again.

"Don't lecture me. With or without conscience, what do you want from me?"

He looks at me, tilting his head. And continues to stab me with his words.

---

"Why didn't you tell Albus?"

Attack! Straight ahead towards the bull's eye... I know that's not nice. And I don't care right now.

"I belive that this is noone of your business."

I shake my head, but don't break of my gaze. He seems to feel uncomfortable underneath my scrutinizing look. And to my biggest suprise he starts to talk.

"It's something he shouldn't care about. It's not his business, and I know he's worried already. Woke up three times last month in the infirmary in the middle of night, freshly patched up by Poppy with him holding my hand and crying at my bedside. That's not necessary. He's got different things to worry about. The future of the whole wizarding world, for example. I'm a dead man anyway."

He carefully looks at me, dark eyes empty again.

"You know, we're all worried. We can see what's happening to you. It feels like you're slowly vanishing, slipping through all of our hands... you're not sleeping, you're not eating, you're not talking. How comes you're never hungry?"

He shrugs again, shakes his head.

"Cruicatus kills the stomach of the victim if applied too often. The victim looses the apptite and suffers major pain when eating. It's a normal process, but it came earlier than I anticipated. I thought I still had some more month. Seems like my time is running up."

His voice is so neutral, so scientific, antiseptic. No emotion. As if he's reciting from a textbook some knowledge that has no connection with himself. Merlin.

"But... can't Poppy or anyone do anything? You'll starve if you continue like this. Look at you! You're taller than me and thinner than Sirius was when he came out of Azkaban. And he was a skeleton. Talk to us! We will do anything to help you. But how can we help you if you keep everything to yourself?"

As soon as the last sentence leaves my lips I realize my mistake. But it's already too late. Severus jumps up from the bench and goes a few fast steps away from me. Than he turns around.

"I don't remember asking for help."

No! He was so close. I was behind the mask, the wall, behind his defences, and now he's gone again. Hidden behind a wall, once again.

---

It's always the same old story. As if I asked for help in the first place! I never do. Once I asked, and it brought me here. On the dark winter night, as I came to Albus and gave him all the names, all the information, everything I knew and informed him afterwards where he'd find my corpse. When he held me back and told me he would not allow me to leave. That suicide was wrong. That there was a different way. That he would show me how, if I wanted to. Then I asked for help.

Lupin stays where he is on the bench, sadness in his face. Why do they start to care now? It's too late, I'm already gone. But when I could have needed help, back then, noone asked. Why should they care now?

---

"Severus, I didn't mean it. Come back, sit down again."

He doesn't move an inch. Just stays where he is and stares at me. I rise and take a few steps into his direction, which just makes him move further away from me. There's no emotion in his face.

"Don't come near. You ask, all the time, all the impossible questions. And you want answers. But I never asked you for help. You gave me your help, once, but I didn't ask for it. Why do you care now? When we all were younger noone cared. Maybe I could have needed your help, or anyones help. When my father took out the whip, when Lucius took my body, when Voldemort took my soul. And noone cared. I asked Albus for help, once, and sometimes I wish he would have let me die in peace. He didn't. I'm still alive, or so I guess, but for how long? Standing on two sides, serving two masters, and one of those sides will kill me, soon. Dying by Voldemorts hands, dying by the hands of Aurors, there's not difference. Dead men don't bring up wars. And I wish they would kill my today instead of tomorrow, but justice is so slow and maybe she didn't see me. Why should you see me, than? I don't fit into a Gryffindor world. But there aren't only Gryffindors out there, trust me, I've seen them all. Stop trying to save me. You can't do it. Only I can."

And then he turns around on his heels and in a whirl of black robes is gone.

I stay where I am, rooted to the spot and stare into the nothingness in front of me. He sounded desperate, furious. He talked a lot tonight, telling me much about himself. His fear, but also his fury. There's still something burning inside him, and if it's only hate, it might get him through this battle. Fury comes from strength, and strength is something we all need in this time. But I think Severus needs it more than anybody else.

The sun is slowly setting behing the forbidden forest. Down in the lake you can see the octopus play in the water, and in no time the students will be back. And maybe they will run into a fuming Head of Slytherin, taking points for loud breathing in the hallways if he just could. Maybe we're lucky and his fury can take him into an uncertain tomorrow. And if his fury doesn't provide enough strength I'll - we'll - be there. We're all too late to stop his soul from breaking, from saving his body from being torn apart. But his mind is still intact, and still shining, though opaque. Maybe we can help him to put the broken fragments of himself back together. We're all fragile and we all need help. It won't matter wether he'll ask for help or not. Sirius always said that Severus was made out of cold, black stone. But now I know that he couldn't be more wrong. Severus isn't made of stone. He's made of dark glass.

---

(c) Fayet, written 9.11.2002, translated 20.8.2009

That was it. The final chapter of "Black Velvet", and therefore the first of my tales that was translated into the english language in it's entirety. I hope you enjoyed the show as much as I did. I got many, many reviewers asking for a fourth chapter of the german version, nearly seven years ago, and I never stated it, but this is really everything. It's complete, maybe my only tale that really ever was complete. I wrote "Black Velvet" such a long time ago that translating it was a lot like taking a trip down memory lane.

Thanks for following me if you really worked your way through all three chapters. I'd be delighted to hear if you liked it or not, if you discovered mistakes in spelling and grammar, or if you want more or different stuff from me. I'm currently writing on a new triolgy thingy in german, which I'll maybe translate into the english language as well. It's called "Opium" and features a Snape/Lupin friendship as well, but on a very different level than "Black Velvet" does. Stay tuned for it and take care out there.

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and complimented me, I'm indeed very grateful for your words.


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